Change of Heart
by SmurfKiller
Summary: [FIN & REV] Being a defective product is never fun. Especially when you're a clone.


"Change of Heart"

By: Smurfkiller

_Author's Note: This is my first story with a romantic/angst theme attached to it. It's not about a major Star Wars figure like Luke or Chewie, but it does follow the storyline from _Attack of the Clones _and _Revenge of the Sith _Enjoy, and please review._

_Edited 8/3/06._

There's always going to be a defect in the billions of things that are manufactured. And you know that one day, you're going to be stuck with that defective product, and you'll have to live with it. Maybe it's a vibroblade that doesn't cut properly, or the speeder with a funny, chirping sound coming from its engine, or an annoying, malfunctioning threepio droid. But then again, threepios are always annoying. The defective product I got was myself.

I'm a clone.

When they raised me in the cloning cylinder, the Kaminoans, perhaps out of haste, or fatigue, or simply random chance...fate, whatever you want to call it, they screwed up on me. And when they did, they gave me a gift unique to any other of the billions of clones out there.

They did do some of the right things. They gave me the right physical appearance. My face is that of another few billion human males. They injected into me the right mix of endomorphins and hypopanicular medicines. They gave the correct training: loyalty to the Republic and Chancellor Palpatine. They gave me all of the things a good clone should have.

But they forgot to drain me something clones shouldn't have: reason and love.

Clone Trooper YF1132, 327th Starcorps Regiment. My nickname is "Cain."

Back to story.

Now, you might be wondering, why does reason and love make me defective? It's because, I, unlike millions of other troopers, can reason beyond the playground of battlefield tactics, the endless floods of saying "yes sir" and "no sir." I reason, and find a conscience in myself, unlike Commanders. And with my conscience, I have morality, and with morality, I can love. These things are taken away out of a clone from birth. It's something that is drugged and diluted, until it drowns, in all other clones.

But not me.

Don't ask me how it works. For all other clones, their minds were still sharp, but focused on one goal: to defend the Republic. For me, that goal comes with a string of questions: Why? Why should I give a damn? Why do I need to risk my life? And for a while, a part of me whispered back, calming and soothing my worries, all held back by a vague voice telling me it was for the Republic. _For the Republic..._

For the Republic. It made sense.

Normally, defective clones like me are aborted; they were during the early years of the Kaminoan cloning program so that the first batch would impress the Jedi Master who had ordered the army. But all clones were soon needed to defend the Republic, and all clones were soon used. Better a battlefield casualty than never used.

Even as a cadet, I knew I stood out. I was smarter than the other Clone Troopers; they were fed data into their memories, learned tactics by means of a computer. I got all of that too and broke it down, analyzing the strengths and weaknesses, and exploiting them. The trainers congratulated me for my intelligence. I wasn't defective then, but labeled "highly skilled." They sent me to an elite unit for my effort.

It was only later I knew what reasoning meant. And what love meant.

My first battle changed me, and then slowly onward...

They shipped us out to Geonosis, where the Geonosians and their Trade Federation allies had just slaughtered dozens of Jedi. We were ordered to clear out all the hives occupied by the Geonosians, civilians and soldiers alike. I followed my orders, but even as I fought (murdered actually, for most of the alien creatures, bloodthirsty as they were, were civilians), I questioned the morality of the orders. Another part of my thundered, trying to extinguish my questions, fears, and doubt with a simple sentence. _For the Republic._

For the Republic. It made sense.

Later, I learned other troops had finished the job of erasing the insurgency of the Separatists in Geonosis, by exterminating all Geonosians.

My unit went on other missions. We took hostage Rune Haakos' family. He was the lieutenant of the Trade Federation. We assassinated Poggle the Lesser's mate. Poggle was an important member of the Separatist movement. When Haakos' family was killed, he ordered the death of several Jedi he held prisoner. When Poggle's mate had her wings cut off, and then was blown apart by members of my unit, Poggle and the Trade Federation Fleet lanced the planet of Chandrila with fire, killing thousands.

An eye for an eye, and for each act of brutality, I became less desensitized by the horror, and slowly, I realized we were nothing more than natural borne killers, inhuman and inhumane. And again and again, it echoed to me. _For the Republic._

For the Republic. It made sense.

It was the Jedi who drove me to the brink.

We were on "guard duty" on Coruscant, a vague euphemism for a Clone Corps so battered that it had to replace its losses. Our troopers were replaced not because they died, but because they were murderers. Some great force, perhaps Palpatine, was directing the maneuvers of troopers throughout the galaxy, for the veterans who committed the assassinations and massacres in the 327th were whisked away to other units, and new troops took their place. My commander, YF0001, "Bly," announced that our next tour of duty was on Felucia, with General and Jedi Aayla Secura in command.

She stood beside him, bowing as he said her name, wearing a Jedi robe of a gray material. She lifted back her hood of the Jedi Robe, and I blinked. A Twi'lek, female, with glowing blue skin. Secura was nervous, or wary, but anyone would be, surrounded by a room filled with the same face.

"Greetings, defenders of the Republic. I am Jedi Knight _Aaylasecura_."

My unit nodded to her, but I stood there, staring. Something of the barest bubbling of emotion took me, as I looked at her. Something ancient and too deep-rooted for even the cloners to take away, something that made me defective. It wasn't reason…but as she swept dark eyes over me, my heart missed a beat. It was love.

She smiled as she held my gaze for barely a second, as her lekku twitched, and I knew that she knew what I was thinking. Another emotion filled me, drowning the brainwashing by the Kaminoans, flooding my ears with blood until they were scarlet. Embarrassment.

Imagine that. A Clone Trooper in love with something other than the Republic.

We shipped out the next day.

At first she was hesitant, for we were the objects of war and she was a protector of peace. At first, she was distant, only giving commands to Bly. "General" we knew her as. But on Felucia, where we survived, she learned to trust us. A trust she misplaced.

I don't know how many times she saved us during our assaults on Felucia. An exotic world, with exotic animals. Flowers are big as a Wookie, and lethal enough to kill one in a second. Droids were not the only enemies, because the fauna was almost as deadly as a blaster bolt. But _Aaylasecura,_ as her Twi'lek name was known, saved my unit more than once. She sensed an attack before it took place. She knew which plants would bite us, sinking its fangs into our armor. She knew where to hide in that colorful vegetation, when overwhelming odds were against us. Because of it, Bly and his 327th Starcorps survived. I survived, and every time I did, my loyalty and love for her grew stronger, and the training and brainwashing of my past died. I was becoming human.

Always, she was in the front and brunt of the attack, violet lightsaber flashing, as we surrounded her, bolts whining in the dense tropical air. She cut down droids while protecting us from bolts, and used the Force to rip the innards of gunships that we could not stop.

Our unit respected her. Followed her orders. I loved her. Because of this Twi'lek, I felt humanity bubbling inside of me, forcing the brainwashing and cloned part away, giving me the gifts of any true human. But the day I became what I am now, I lost her.

We were on patrol with her when it happened. Only a few members of our unit, along with our commander, were there. A sudden movement in the brush alerted her, and she help up her hand to stop us, and reach out with the Force.

At the same time, Bly turned his sound receptors down as he heard a message in his helmet. He nodded quickly, acknowledging the message, and then looked up to us.

"Execute Order 66," he said in a flat, toneless voice.

Something inside me screamed. The last remnants of the clone programmed into me, gasping one last breathe from the sea of my humanity. It triggered a response, and my blaster spat out one bolt. A bird flew out of the brush, startling the Jedi, and as she turned around, halfway, my bolt struck. She jerked, and my unit let out a volley of shots. As she faced us, she shuddered, lightsaber falling out of her hand, her mouth opened, gasping with pain, her eyes in shock. Her lekku twitched one last time, and she fell, face down.

Whatever the Kaminoans did to me, whatever programming, whatever brainwashing, died as a surge of grief hit me. I was human, but I had lost what I need to love.

_For the Republic..._

No! It didn't make sense!

"No…"

My commander turned to me.

"What did you say, 1132?" He had his rifle in his hands, and the two troopers flanking each side watched in their cold, stony manner.

"Nothing."

"Nothing, _commander_." He spoke disgustingly, towards me, as if I was a Hutt. "What kind of defective product are you?" A hint of emotion leaked out from behind that mask.

"Yes sir."

He paused, looking at the body.

"Get rid of it."

They left for the command post, as I lifted her body to bury her somewhere. She was so light, so fragile. So…beautiful. I closed those haunting eyes that looked on, in shock and betrayal, as my heart became a stone that slowly sank with pain. I flicked off her lightsaber and placed it in her hands.

In a clearing of the forest, I cradled her body, looking at that exquisite beauty. She had helped me become human, and torrent of emotions: grief, love, anger. Feelings that my emotionless helmet could not hide.

I took off the contraption and cried.

Cried for her, cried for the unraveling of the Republic, cried for the millions of soulless men that would die, each with a face like mine, without knowing what I knew.

Her body became transparent, and slowly, it disappeared in an aura of light. Nothing was left. My tears that had been sliding down her face dropped to the ground.

I stood up.

A change of heart took me, for I knew I was no longer the same being like the clones in my unit. I was human, with the emotions of a human, the love of a human. Not a clone. No. What I fought for did not matter. My identification was no longer YF-1132. My name is Cain.

That night, I deserted, stealing a speeder bike and disappearing into the jungle.

A small part of me died that day. I don't know what, but I know I lost something I wanted. I needed. Maybe it would have been better if I was still programmed, still brainwashed, still emotionless, still a Clone. Maybe it would spare me the grief and pain. Maybe it would have been better if I died, knowing I did my duty defending the Republic. But everything I am…I cherish it.

It's what makes me human.


End file.
